


The Show

by the_ink_stained_knight



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Awkward Crush, Budding Love, Concerts, Crushes, F/M, First Dates, Friendship, High School, Karen is the Best, New York City, Not Everyone Wants Instant Kill Karen, Peter Makes His Move, queens ny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 12:40:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16040675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ink_stained_knight/pseuds/the_ink_stained_knight
Summary: Michelle can't get tickets for a concert, and Peter has an idea





	The Show

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by raving_liberal

Peter entered home room to find MJ at her desk, scowling at her phone. Sliding onto the stool next to her, he tried to peek over her wrist at it.

“What ya’ doing?” he asked.

“You’d like to know, wouldn’t you,” she muttered.

“Yeah, I would, ‘cause, you know, I asked.”

She looked up at Peter, her heavily lidded eyes just looking at him. “Tough.”

“MJ,” Peter said, dragging out the two letters. “Em Jay. What’s wrong?”

“Things. Things. Has service always sucked in this school?”

Peter blinked. Since joining up with the Avengers, such as he was anyway, he had gotten a phone upgrade. Something told him that the Stark Industries–made phone in his jeans pocket could work in space.

“Erm, I guess?” Peter replied, illicting a deeper level of squint from her.

“You’d think the ‘School of Science and Technology’ would have signal extenders or something,” she sighed, putting her phone on the table face down hard enough for Peter to be concerned about it.

“I don’t think they want us to be able to use our phones here,” he offered.

“Nobody asked for your opinions, Parker.”

“You just did, a moment ago.”

“Shut up.”

“Seriously, what's going on?” Peter's voice, the concern in it, made her relent.

“I was trying to get tickets to Alabama Shakes this weekend, but the damn data here is so damn slow it sold out before I could get mine, alright?” She sighed heavily.

“Where are they playing?”

“Forest Hills Stadium,” she sighed. “I'd have schlepped all the way out to freaking Queens to see them, man.”

“Hey! I live near there.”

“I'm aware.”

Peter sighed, shaking his head. For all of their friendship, he couldn't shake her bristled exterior. But there is one thing he could do to get her to smile.

“Hey, so I might know a guy who could get us in to the concert. If you want I could ask.”

“Us?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Peter felt the blood drain from his face. “Um...us. Not as like anything.”

 _Christ, I fought Captain America, but I can't talk to a high school girl. What is_ wrong _with me?_

“Sure you can.” She rolled her eyes.

“I can. Trust me.”

“Fine.”

The bell rang, and the pair split, each going to their next classes, which was fine, as Peter had to plan.

******

_I don't think that was a good idea, Peter._

Peter hung in the air at the top of his arch, the voice of his suit’s artificial intelligence in his ears. “Since when did I make good choices about women, Karen?”

Karen made a thinking noise. She didn't need to think, at least not in the way that humans did; she could do a hundred complex computations in less than the time it would take Peter to decide to ask about any of them. Peter liked it, though. She felt like a person, and made him want to confide in her.

As Peter began to fall, Karen overlayed his vision with a heads-up display, highlighting a few choices to target for his next swing. Peter chose the end of a tall crane, firing a string of webbing at it and beginning another string.

_You handled Liz alright._

“Hard to date someone after you put their father in prison.”

 _She didn’t know that, though,_ the A.I. noted.

“But I did, which was the problem.”

 _I know that, Peter._ Karen’s soft voice was a comfort, and while he didn’t feel anything, he thought about her rubbing a hand on his shoulder or back.

He swung up and around the arm of the crane, landing atop it and looking around. Peter crouched 1,125 feet above the ground, 75 stories up, wind pulling at him. Before Tony gave him the high tech suit he currently wore, his cloth suits would have been whipped away from him at this height. This suit, however, was quite tight indeed.

“I know that it isn’t a good idea, but I’ve already said what I did, so how do I get around this now, without her knowing about, well…” Peter paused. As he watched, the overlay informed him about a report about a silent alarm triggered in a jewelry shop on the Bowery near Canal Street.

Karen pulled up a map of the city, laying it over the streets he was looking at, plotting a course. Two point one miles from where he crouched in Midtown to that part right outside of Chinatown, in one of the city’s older Diamond District iterations. Moving at common swinging speed, he could make it there within five minutes, less if he pushed himself.

“...well this stuff,” he said, pushing himself off the crane, flying out three hundred feet before gravity caught him and he started to fall. Once again, Karen picked a few options for him to swing from, and choosing one, he began his upswing southward. “It’s hard to explain. ‘Hey, I’m Peter, I was bitten by a weird spider and now I have powers. Go by Spider-Man, I’m kinda an Avenger, but still fight bank robbers and muggers, so I’m down to Earth.”

_I’m pretty sure I would date you if you told me that, and you know, were a person._

_Great, well at least my computer wants me,_ Peter thought. He shook his head, getting back to the matter at hand. “Can you just think of something, maybe?”

_Sure, Peter. You’re making great time. Should I activate Instant Kill?_

*****

That Saturday’s day came and went so quickly, Peter felt as though he had little time to breath. Setting up and enacting his and Karen’s plan took a few hours of surveillance, as well as some super-powered trespassing, breaking and entering, and almost getting caught by a man with slicked back white hair that looked far too old to be a security guard.

“And they’re making you work the weekend shift, too? I’m sorry, Mr. Lee,” Peter muttered to himself.

Once everything was in order, he had barely enough time to swing to his apartment, shower, and get dressed in something Karen thought looked nice but not too nice, a fresh pair of jeans with a v-neck tee shirt beneath a flannel shirt, with a new pair of Converse All-Star high tops he barely had time at all to pick up from the nearby Queens Center Mall.

“How do I look?” he asked, pointing the micro-camera in the watch he wore that held the computer for Karen when he wasn’t in the suit.

 _Pretty great,_ Karen said in an earpiece.

“Fancy,” May said from the doorway, making Peter jump. “Got a hot date?”

“Oh, um. Nothing like that Aunt May, just hanging out, wanted to look good,” Peter replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Because you might be able to pick up a hot date?” May asked, smirking.

“May!”

“Whatever happened to that Liz girl, anyway? She was nice.”

“I don’t know, it just didn’t work out.”

“Sometimes, it’s like that, champ. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s fine, honest, May. Hey, I’m gonna be back late tonight, so don’t worry about dinner, alright?”

“Sure kid, sure. Be safe out there.”

Michelle met him on Queens Boulevard and 71st Avenue.

“You better have a way to get us in, Peter. I had to take two trains for an hour to get out here. Two trains.”

Peter wasn’t sure if he should hug her as a greeting or not, thought about doing it for a moment, but instead just sort of stood there, looking at her. “Oh, I’ll get you in. Thanks for coming out.”

Michelle looked at him with that half-lidded gaze she perfected. “Alright Parker, let's go.” She held out a hand, inviting him to take the lead. Bouncing on his heels, he did, guiding her the few blocks to the stadium.

The first home of the US Open before it moved to Flushing, the stadium was a decent sized concert venue, respectful for the group playing tonight without the extravagance of a Madison Square Garden, Barclay's Center, or Meadowlands. While the crowds coalesced around the few entryways around the structure, Peter guided Michelle between one of the neighboring houses and the stadium.

He held one finger to his lips, shushing the question she was about to ask. The first part of the plan was to nullify the cameras on this side of the venue. While he could have just webbed them over, he didn't want to take them out of commission, just get around them for the event. He, instead, crawled along the exterior wall and, one by one, turned them away from the fire exit at ground level.

Once that was complete, he slipped into the venue through an unlatched window and had Karen pull up the blueprints he had found earlier in the week. There was a fire stair that lead from top of the building to the bottom and it had roof access.

Hitting the door with a bit of webbing so that it only closed enough to look shut but not latch was simple, and he made a _ta-da_ motion as he opened the door for her.

Michelle cocked an eyebrow, skeptical. “How'd you do that?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

She rolled her eyes and walked past him. “How much did it cost to bribe a janitor to leave that unlocked?”

“Free dollars and zero cents. I didn't bribe anyone. Come on.”

He climbed the stairs, Michelle a few steps behind. Another web stick kept the roof access door open, and she followed him out onto the narrow rooftop structure, looking out to the street on one side, and the crew setting up on the stage down below on the other. He guided Michelle to a thick blanket he secured to the concrete with more webbing, as well as a blanket to cover themselves with against the wind and chill.

Michelle whistled. “Nosebleeds, to be sure, but not bad Peter, not bad at all.”

Together, they sat, watching the sound check and opening bands. Sometime between the first and second openers, Peter pulled out a pair of heroes and cans of Arizona tea from Delmar’s, the best sandwiches in Queens. He passed her one of each and watched as she unwrapped hers and ate, bouncing along to the music. She smiled as she ate, and that was all Peter needed.

That smile became a loud and exciting yelling when Alabama Shakes took the stage. As they played, Michelle shouted her voice out. At the end of a pair of encores, her voice was barely a scratch, but she was all smiles.

“Thank you Peter, I mean it,” Michelle croaked, kissing Peter on the cheek.

“You’re welcome MJ.” Peter reddened, and was barely able to reply at all. He walked her back to train.

 _That went well,_ Karen said in his earphones as he made his way home.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. “It did, didn’t it?”


End file.
